The Bold Acting Podcast

If you like the Bold Acting Podcast talk it up at your next dinner or book club. Word-of-Mouth is the best form of advertising. If you don’t like it maybe just keep that to yourself.

Rating and reviewing the thing is also greatly appreciated. It goes a long way to spreading the word.

To get in touch email me at:  [email protected] on Instagram  @jasonbrydenofcanada

The song used in this podcast is called Sure and it was made by Braak which is electronic and cinematic music made by Øyvind Strand Endal from Norway.Music from Uppbeat (free for Creators!):https://uppbeat.io/t/braak/sureLicense code: AVTXANAUYZXHSHB0

Thanks for listening. I wouldn’t do it without you.

Jason Bryden in Toronto

I shouldn’t have gone to university.

Actors should take acting classes and personal finance classes not learn about the history of Canadian theatre.

We need to learn how to get a day job that won’t destroy our souls. We need to learn how to pay taxes. When you do finally get an acting gig you get this big chunk of money. But no one from university told me you first have to remit your HST or the CRA will come and break your legs. That’s their money. Then you need to pay the base income tax rate of 30% minus business expenses. But figure out those expenses later.

The intricacies of being an adult. Highly overrated. But worth getting a handle on sooner rather than later.

Freelancing means you have to do it all.

In the Q&A on today’s show we hear from listeners in Seattle, Vancouver and London. We talk about happiness, how to get back into acting after a long break and whether to join the union or not (Yes!)

Contact me:

[email protected]

boldacting.com

insta: @jasonbrydenofcanada

Work It Weekly is a drop-in scene study class with me, Jason Bryden, an actor and a teacher with over 25 years experience. It’s a great way to get back into class, to get coached on an audition and to find your community.

My Sunday night class is more than just about acting. Find your voice. Take your space.

Email me at [email protected] or go to boldacting.com for more info.

And don’t forget to subscribe to my free weekly podcast the Bold Acting podcast — now more self-deprecating! I’ve been getting feedback that people miss my previous newsletter, Dear Diaryah and my podcast To My Glorious Self where I was brutally honest about … everything. Well, I continue to be overwhelmingly effacing in the Bold Acting podcast AND I tie it into my new business venture the Bold Acting Studios. So you’re getting what you loved about me plus you’re getting it with an actual point. The point is to be pointed.

I’m not just telling you about hernia surgery and how it relates to the scary ghost emoji and my ex-wife (Episode 6 - St. Joseph and the Coward). Now I’m telling you about my bullshit metre and how you have one too (The Bullshit Metre Inside of You). You can see how I’ve improved.

Subscribe to the Bold Acting Podcast wherever the podcasts are. And do talk me up when next your podcast club meets. In between the flagons of Pinot Grigio and the charcuterie send a little love my way. Talk me up.

Thanks for reading The Bold Acting Newsletter! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.

And now for this week’s newsletter …

Russian in the Park

I run through the meadow at the top of High Park. The same meadow where in 2019 there was the world’s most annoying portrait photographer (To My Glorious Self Episode 15 — Land Acknowledgement). Near where Kenneth Zeller, a high school teacher from nearby Western Tech was murdered in 1985 by five of his students because he was gay. Every five minutes I drop and give me 15. I promise myself that I’m going to do 100 pushups a day until I can do 200 pushups a day.

I pull over to the side of the single-track trail to let a shirtless runner about ten years older than me go past in the other direction. We wave to each other. I think, man, I’d love to look as good as he does when I’m his age.

It’s the rearing up that hurts the ego. As I go from a plank to heaving one leg forward and underneath my chest, then pushing up with said leg to allow the other leg to follow so that I am now standing I am keenly aware that from behind especially it must be an awkward sight. Like watching a giraffe get up.

An eastern-European voice asks me how many I can do. It’s the shirtless runner from four minutes ago. I say 15. And he says he can do 30 but not in a braggy way. He says he runs here all the time. That this park means everything to him. He lives in a two-bedroom apartment in the neighbourhood abutting the park on the north side.

I am Boris.

I’m Jason.

We shake hands.

How old are you Boris?

72.

Daaaaaammmmmmn, girl! I think. 72. Shiiiit. Thought you were way younger.

Boris has been in Toronto for twenty years. His son, now 35, tells him the best thing he ever did was move to Canada.

Where are you from?

Moscow.

Up until last year Boris wasn’t so sure. His whole life was in Moscow. He had friends, an apartment, a job. He loved the city. But since the war he thanks God he is in Canada.

I don’t know for sure but I think many of us perceive this to be Russia’s war. When it’s not. It’s Putin’s. But nuance is hard so we paint with broad strokes. All Russians must be bad. All Russians must be anti-Ukraine. It can't be so simple. When I had my basement done late last year it was Ukrainians and Russians that did all the work. They didn’t seem to be fighting. The only ones to remark on it were the Canadian HVAC guys. For Russians and Ukrainians in Canada it must be like Americans and Canadians living abroad. If Trump invades Canada when next he’s El Presidente (or a proxy even worse than the Orange Emperor) it’s not suddenly America’s war. We can’t account for hundreds of millions of minds.

Thank you for reading The Bold Acting Newsletter. This post is public so feel free to share it.

Our perceptions are formed by scant headlines. We’re too anxious to read down to the end of the article.

I ask Boris if he’s a vegetarian.

No.

Do you drink?

No. Not for twenty years.

Hhhm. You came to Canada and stopped drinking.

In Russia it is tradition.

So I’ve heard. Do you have a pension?

A small one.

So he doesn’t have to worry about money … much. Are you married?

I have wife, he says rather balefully.

Married people apparently live longer. And yet one must ask if the goal of life is the quantity of it or the quality.

Are you a good sleeper, Boris?

I am asleep every night at 10 and wake-up at six.

How much do you eat?

I cut back. It’s all about calories. And genetics only plays 15-20% of equation, he says.

I’ve got to get business cards I think. I’m down near the pond now squeezing out my last twenty pushups that gets me to 100. I should have given Boris my number. We could run together. Or maybe just meet in the meadow and spot each other. God he looked good. He said his wife laughs at him for all of his worrying about his health.

I wonder if having someone make fun of you helps in the long run.

Last year I was in the mix for the latest Kiefer Sutherland show. The role I was up for was a rightwing podcast host. How much fun would that be? To play a really bad bad-guy. The kind we all rail against. The unequivocal Alex Jonsey-type of a-hole.

There was no part of me that wouldn’t want to sink my teeth into such a role. No part of me that would judge a man like that. First and foremost the man I’d be playing is a fictional character. Secondly, it’s not for me the actor to judge others or their ideologies. I do that plenty in real life. But when I’m acting it isn’t about real life. It’s about something closer to the truth.

When I acted in commercials (I stopped counting at 200) I never didn’t love the clear hierarchy of the medium. It wasn’t about the actor. It was about the beer, the car, the incontinence products, the salad dressing, the insurance. It took the pressure off. So much of my life is me focussing on myself. For a day I got paid to focus on a bag of shredded cheese instead. What a relief.

Other’s perceptions is that an actor sells out when they shill. That wasn’t my truth. I got to afford to be a stay-at-home dad AND pay for everything. In other words, I got real lucky.

I have a reason to keep running. So that I might meet up with a septuagenarian from Moscow. Maybe we can go for tea. Or stop off at the Rabba across the street and pound protein bars together.

Normally I spin on my spin bike in my bedroom in front of the Criterion Channel. Today I did pushups in the dirt and made a new friend. Fuck yeah. I was reminded to be thankful we are not at war, we aren’t ruled by a despot (not yet Pierre) but that we must remain vigilant.

Perception are stories we chose to tell ourselves. Like that Kenneth Zeller didn’t deserve to live. Like that 140 million Russians agree with their leader.

Like I’m bad at running.

Actually I really do think I’m bad at it. But as long as there is a meadow there I’m gonna run through it. Every meadow needs its giraffe.

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In real life we do weird stuff with our face, our hands, our body. That’s why life is not always the best model for what we’re doing here. This is make-believe in here. This is something better than real life. We’re after something bigger. We’re after something closer to the truth.

The truth is that thing that resonates with diverse and manifold audiences where no matter who they are relative to you they get the thing you are putting out there. The widest audience doesn’t have to come from the person who is the best actor (shout-out to Tom Cruise!) however it does help if you have the bravery to shine a light on the very thing that scares you/ embarrasses you/ makes you want to barf. That’s the thing you must walk towards. You immediately discover that the thing isn’t so bad. And then you say to yourself I knew it wasn’t that bad. And that’s it. That’s the thing you were meant to parse or peddle. That’s the truth.

Everybody wants it. You had it all along. Now do it again.

And again.

Never stop.

Don’t make your acting like real life. Make your real life like your acting.

If you like the Bold Acting Podcast talk it up at your next dinner or book club. Word-of-Mouth is the best form of advertising. If you don’t like it maybe just keep that to yourself.

Rating and reviewing the thing is also greatly appreciated. It goes a long way to spreading the word.

To get in touch email me at:  [email protected] on Instagram  @jasonbrydenofcanada

Thanks for listening. I wouldn’t do it without you.

Jason Bryden in Toronto

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The monologue inside my head has me regularly the victor. I am fostering grudges, serving up street-justice, putting dickwads in their place. My eyes narrow as I mutter. My brow pulls down. My face now angular feels like it looks like the sharp end of an anvil.

I walk around High Park holding another monologue in my hand. One written by André Aciman from his novel Call Me By Your Name — one of my favourite books (A High Wind from Jamaica, I Capture the Castle, A Whole Life, An Unforgettable Woman, The Animals being my other faves right now). I carry this worn out piece of paper memorizing these lines over and over. Just so I don’t forget how. And because I love the words and the sentiment. It’s the ultimate dad monologue.

You can watch it in the movie of the same name where Michael Stuhlbarg says to his son Timothée Chalamet in the penultimate scene:

… our hearts and our bodies are given to us only once. And before you know it, your heart is worn out, and, as for your body, there comes a point when no one looks at it, much less wants to come near it.

Those words mix with my words: the judgement of others, the inside joke from twenty years ago that suddenly pops up into the aether (that ancient Greek personification of the bright, upper sky), the How-dare-you!-vindication from the incident at the bank yesterday where I just wanted a little more information on the deposits I had made that hadn’t shown up and then suddenly they did but Parsimonious Kevin seems to have a terrible short-term memory or he’s being coy with me.

The bright upper sky is there but I can’t see it. I’m busy felling imagined foes.

I know those words of Aciman’s. That worn-out heart and that body no one wants to look at. No matter how much work I put into them there is no early parol for good behaviour. Time tramples me. There is no winning in the face of a charging Khronos. Just a little more with my boys please before they go adolescent dark. Just a little more energy and vitality before I am invisible. Just make the global heating go away for a while. And while you’re at it all this inflation and Fascism too.

Khronos clipped Cupid’s wings as a matter of course it seems. It happens to us all. We lose that loving feeling. What remains is goodwill. My wing’s have been clipped but where am I good? I walk around slinging arrows at people I know not, will never see again. Yesterday while me and the boys were driving home from yet another walk through yet another cemetery (Mt. Pleasant, sooo beautiful) there was a man in a Miata and he just couldn’t make that left-turn. He wasn’t aggressive enough. And why had Google maps directed me to turn left off of Mt. Pleasant Road and onto Moore Drive when there’s no advanced green. Just endless weekend traffic. This instagram age we live in makes moving around more difficult than ever. If it’s beautiful we have to brag to the whole world about it and then we’re appalled when the whole world shows up.

I thought about the Miata driver for the rest of the night. He drove home with me. He parked his car in my bed. A new monologue. A new victim.

We rip out so much of ourselves to be cured of things faster, that we go bankrupt by the age of thirty and have less to offer each time we start with someone new. But to make yourself feel nothing so as not to feel anything - what a waste!

It is done or it has happened. Wings clipped, heart worn-out. And as for the body … So why not just look up? I mean, if it’s all over. Just look up into the blue.

All grist for the mill, you say? Ah, lucky me, lucky you — that ever-loving mill. Round and round, a wooden chronos of sorts. We charge forth in straight lines as if the wheel we are on wasn’t a circle. We grow used to the watery lashings.

Suddenly blithe crones in Tilly hats on one last canoe trip down slow-moving waters. Everything’s fine.

To feel it all. To remind yourself to stay there and feel. The aether isn’t nothing. It’s the bright, blue sky and that is what endless possibility looks like.

Wait? What’s that sound up ahead? Is that a waterfall?

Nah. Everything’s fine.

Thanks for reading. If you found something in this newsletter informative or helpful I want you to spread the word. I’d love it if you talked me up at your next book club or dinner party. Or reposted about me (@jasonbrydenofcanada). You can send people to boldacting.substack.com. Word of mouth is the best form of advertising.

And if you’re in Toronto please checkout my Sunday class. It’s much more than just acting. We’re making artists over here.

Thanks again. I couldn’t do it without you.

My bullshit-metre is a finely honed machine. I can smell it a mile away. The writer Michael Turner first turned me onto this. I had never thought of it before. But once I had I saw it everywhere. Especially in myself.

I don’t know what you look for in a politician but I want a smart person to do the heavy-lifting for me. I’m lazy. And when some sleaze-bag says they’re going to lower taxes and invest in my children’s future my bullshit-o-metre redlines. I get bored, start people-watching and eventually find a martini to smash into my mouth.

Thanks for listening and spreading the word. I couldn’t do it without you. If you’ve found something worthwhile in here I’d love it if you talked me up to your friends. Word-of-mouth is the best form of advertising.

Let’s keep in touch through my free weekly newsletter. Sign up at https://boldacting.substack.com.

I’m editing video right now. I can’t stand it. I’m too old for this. It’s sooo boring. It’s for a show my buddy Dave and I are making. It was his idea. And it’s a great one.

But great ideas are like Spanx: I look great when I’m wearing them but it doesn’t mean I can skip the gym (or start eating fries again). It’s the execution of an idea that makes it worth something.

Some Recent Great Ideas of Mine

-Yoga classes on commuter airplanes. Other passengers pay extra to watch.

-Get rid of streetcars. Replace with cheap, electric articulated buses. Make a giant Transformers robot of old streetcars. Invade America. They’ll never expect it. Besides, Vermont has always secretly wanted to be Canadian anyway. (Shoutout to maple syrup.)

-The Scratching Post. It’s like a massage parlour but just for back scratches.

-The grilled-cheese-lasagna sandwich. It’s real. I’ve made and ingested a number of them and I can tell you with all certainty these are the next big thing.

Thank you for reading The Bold Acting Newsletter. If you like this post consider sharing it. If you don’t like it then keep it to yourself.

Ideas are a dime a dozen. It’s not the strength of the idea that will carry you through, it’s the you. It’s the work. Inspiration comes from a composite of experience, context and gathered knowledge. The muse isn’t some magical force from on high, it’s how we process information around personal preferences. There’s the inspiration you get from a song where you’re inspired to feel something you wouldn’t have otherwise. You put pen to paper and start writing. Then there’s the inspiration you get from watching a really good show or movie and you think I want to do that! Except someone already did. Then there’s the inspiration you get from art or a story where the artist or writer makes it look so easy you think I could do that! But you didn’t.

It takes a pant-load of courage (or self-delusion) to make something and then put it out there for all to pick apart.

Dave and I have had a lot of show ideas together over the years. For this show we’re filming various proofs of concept. So far we’ve been to a crime scene clean-up and a couple days ago I visited a somatic sex healer.

THIS IS THE PART MY PARENTS SHOULD SKIP

(I wrote that in all-caps so they could see it.)

I didn’t know what a somatic sex healer was either. Dave sent me to her because I talk openly about my psychological erectile dysfunction. I’m rusty. I’m older. My testosterone levels aren’t what they used to be. Not being in a romantic relationship means sooo many good things but there are also things I’m missing: companionship, intimacy and modelling for my boys relational collaboration with another human.

Her name is Monica and this is what she does (from her website):

“Cultivating erotic wellness will not only deepen our capacity for joy and intimacy but also lead to a world with less violence and more empathy.”

Big goals. But why not?

First we talked. She asked me questions like What was your most wonderful sexual experience? I didn’t have an answer. Maybe that’s telling. All I could think about was why did she use the word wonderful like that? That’s weird. Clearly I was still in my head.

My head garners so much of my focus. Always has. But being in my head (and being on a dance floor) have never benefitted me or anyone else. I overthink things (and I have a high centre of gravity). These are just facts.

She’s playing some Drum & Bass now and she tells me we’re going to do some shaking. My inner critique turns into Clint Eastwood if he were forced to spend the weekend at Burning Man doing ‘shroomies in a speedo while manning the face-painting tent. But my intransigence melts away as I shake off the adrenaline that covers my skin like a fishnet body suit.

Then we go into her inner lair where there is a massage table, velvet curtains and moody lighting. I’ve already set up my cameras. Monica tells me to disrobe as much or as little as I feel comfortable. She will remain clothed. I still don’t really understand what’s going on.

She leaves the room. I take it all off and lie down on my back on the table. She comes back in and tells me she will touch me wherever I want in three minute increments. She tells me what kind of touch she can do. Then she’ll move on to another body part. I ask her to touch my feet and I immediately start falling asleep. I love my feet being touched. Then I ask for weight. I want to be smothered I tell her. She gets a weighted blanket and puts it on me. A blanket was not exactly what I was hoping for. Then she put her hands on my chest. That didn’t do anything. I asked her to put her hands on my abdomen and tears shot out of my eyes so quickly, so hard it felt like they were hitting the ceiling and splattered back down on me in a convection current of bottled emotion. I was blubbering and heaving and snotting and crying like an American teen that’s just discovered Starbucks has brought back their beloved venti Unicorn Frappuccino.

I was generating mucosal weather systems while lying naked on a bed with a stranger standing over me in a basement in Greektown. And this was just a Thursday!

Do you do that? Do you zoom out like Google Earth high above your present location only to see how tiny you are? How funny it must look to a seagull with x-ray vision flying over you.

Then Monica said “Do you want me to touch your genitals?”

I’m not sure anyone has ever asked me that in that way. Through the weighted blanket she cupped me while still holding my belly. I continued to cry but I couldn’t out-and-out wail. I just couldn’t let go. It was too embarrassing. There was only so much of myself I could tolerate.

I asked her what was happening. She said “The body holds trauma in the muscles and your body is releasing that trauma … a lot of it.”

I named my trauma: a circumcision I could remember (I was four), a hernia surgery, my vasectomy. Do other people cry this much? I have to cry more often. What a release!

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After the session I thanked her, paid her $282.50 and go outside with my tripods and ring lights. I stand there on the sidewalk for a moment reminding myself to revel in this new lightness I’m feeling.

A seagull hanging out in front of the nearby Big Carrot health food store looks at me sideways. I flush with embarrassment and walk to my car.   

Dave’s and my show probably won’t get made. Shows are hard to get green-lit at the best of times and we failed to sell one when everyone loved white guys. But it doesn’t really matter. We’ll just keep making them and then we’ll get even older and more tired and cranky. But there will be a record of those great ideas. If we can figure out how to use Youtube. It’s the perspiration that makes it real.

And speaking of perspiration — yoga on planes! Am I right? It’s a license to print money. Take the seats out and lay down some mats and all of a sudden your puddle-jumper from Billy Bishop to Montreal-Trudeau is either a workout or an eyeful.

Anyway, I should get back to the editing. Thank God the light was low in that massage room. This ain’t pretty. This is 50. And you can’t heal with your Spanx on.

Have you subscribed to the Bold Acting Podcast? Find it wherever the podcasts are.

Got a question for me? Send a voice memo to [email protected] and I’ll answer them on the podcast.

It would be so helpful if you talked this newsletter up to your friends. Subscribe, rate and review to the podcast. If you’re getting something out of this then I am honoured. Show your appreciation by taking a moment to spread the word. My advertising budget is limited.

You can find me on YouTube

insta @jasonbrydenofcanada

or at boldacting.com

Book a coaching, attend my Toronto class or send me a question: [email protected]

Thanks and I look forward to hearing from you.

Advice on performance and on life from me Jason Bryden. let me tell ya how to do it. Whether you’re starting out in your 20s or your 60s. Whether you’re a doctor, a lawyer, an actor or a politician we all have audiences to serve.

I’m JB. You can call me by my initials. Most people do. I’ve been an actor for 25 years but I just started coaching and teaching recently.

Today some contrarian thoughts on performance technique as usual. Followed by a Q & A. If you have a question send a voice memo to [email protected] and I’ll try to answer it on the show.

Thanks for listening. If you found something in this podcast informative or helpful I want you to spread the word. I’d love it if you talked me up at your next book club or dinner party. Or posted about me (@jasonbrydenofcanada). Word of mouth is the best form of advertising.

Rate and review the bold acting podcast. It goes a long way to getting the word out.

There are close to 60 videos on my insta or my youtube channel for you to watch.

And if you’re in Toronto please audit my Monday class. It’s much more than just an acting class. It’s a class in how to get out of your own way. How to be charming, how to make friends, how to listen, how to communicate and most importantly how to make bold moves. Go to boldacting.com for more info.

Don’t forget to sign up for the boldacting newsletter at boldacting.substack.com.

Remember when tolerance was a bad word? For about five minutes. It was right after we discovered we have to love one another despite our differences. Now that the bar has been lowered down to the dirt I am advocating for a return to the bare minimum.

Toleration Nation

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Clearly we’re wired up for assholery. So much so it makes me question the Theory of Evolution. It should be called the Theory of Intermittent Social Evolution and De-Evolution When it Comes to Humans Maybe, Hopefully, Fingers Crossed. We evolve but we devolve too. When she lost her job as premiere of Alberta in 2019 Rachel Notley said something along the lines of this is still progress. Hers was the first NDP government in a 1000 years of Albertan conservative rule. And even though she lost to Jason Kenney — someone I think we can all agree as one of Canada’s best carpetbaggers (And lover of cats) — her’s was a premiership that the NDP and the Left could be proud of.

One Step Forward

Progress is marked in blood and failure, regression and upset. One step forward is the step one should focus on. Not the ten steps back. Tolerance now would be an improvement. And the only way you make progress is taking small steps in the right direction. It seems insurmountable at times. It can be overwhelming to say the least.

A Gentle Reminder to Prioritize Your Worries

What are you worrying about? I would argue that if your worries are too big or too small they're not worth your time.

Too Big:

1. Climate Change

2. Politics

3. The Economy

Too Small:

1. Your appearance

2. What people think of you

3. Expectation

There is no Don't Worry just like there is no Be Happy. We're going to worry. You can’t stop worrying by telling yourself “Don’t do that” just like you can’t change your mood with a command like “Be happy!” So worry about the things that really matter. Worry creatively so that you can come up with the solutions you need.

Become a discriminating worrier. Reframe your pearl-clutching. Call it something else like brainstorming or white-boarding or whatever is least annoying. Put pen to paper. The slowness of writing with a pen will slow your breathing down. You’ll gain perspective.

Then if you’re like me publish your chicken scratch for anyone to see. Or not. Not all of us require an audience for our most intimate drivel. I hope for the largest one possible.

Fear-Based Living — A lose-Lose

When we are fearful (of others, of a situation) we are taking comfort in a guaranteed righteousness. If we are found to be right in our fearfulness then we were right! But if we were found to be over-cautious and the bad thing didn’t happen then we were just being cautious. No one can fault you for staying safe. Fear is a win-win. Except that it’s not, of course. No one ever made anything great through cowardice. You miss out on life. The one thing that with each day lived we have less and less of.

He’s Okay I Guess

The evidence is in. I’m not great. I tolerate me. Just like I tolerate my weird neighbour that has a dog that never stops barking and is barking as I write this (Shout-out to Marley!) Just like I must tolerate my renter who yesterday complained there were too many bugs outside. I told her there wasn’t much I could do about it instead of saying Are you joking right now? You’re not seriously suggesting that bugs outside, in nature are my responsibility also?

How’s your neighbour?

She’s okay, I guess.

How’s renting your basement going?

It could be worse.

How’s it going as a parent?

On some days my kids might describe me as pretty good.

You’re the One You’re With

No more crushing it. There’s nothing to crush. No more killing it. No more murdering. You don’t have to knock it out of the park. Just relax. All this will be over in a blink of an eye. Legacy doesn’t exist. You’ll be dead. If it’s pretty good it's great. It’s impossible to always love the one you’re with. For the one you’re with is you. You’re just too exposed to not disappoint some of the time.

Now tolerate others as you wish to be tolerated. Starting with yourself.

Thank you for reading The Bold Acting Newsletter. This post is public so feel free to share it.

Have you subscribed to the Bold Acting Podcast? Find it wherever the podcasts are (except Spotify. I can’t figure it out yet.)

Got a question for me? Send a voice memo to [email protected] and I’ll answer them on the podcast.

It would be so helpful if you talked this newsletter up to your friends. Word-of-mouth is the best word around.

Rate and review the podcast. If you’re getting something out of this then I am honoured. Show your appreciation by taking a moment to spread the word. My advertising budget is limited.

You can find me on YouTube

insta @jasonbrydenofcanada

or at boldacting.com

Book a coaching, attend my Toronto class or send me a question: [email protected]

Thanks and I look forward to hearing from you.

JB

Thanks for reading The Bold Acting Newsletter! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.

I’m doing ANOTHER podcast? Why? Because the struggle, the battle, the process — whatever you call it — never ends. Of course I’m doing another one. And so should you.

Everybody should have a podcast. And not because there are a million out there already but because the bar to entry is low. And because we know the results are none of our business. And because when technology democratizes something like free speech we should not take it for granted. We need more democracy these days. Now more than ever.

This week’s podcast includes topics such as how to reframe your self-talk, how to take the pressure off through making performance a conversation, how to choose your worries and how you can’t fail when you’re making art, among others.

Thanks for listening. I wouldn’t do it without you.

If you like the Bold Acting Podcast talk it up at your next dinner or book club. Word-of-Mouth is the best form of advertising. If you don’t like it maybe just keep that to yourself.

Rating and reviewing the thing is also greatly appreciated. It goes a long way to spreading the word.

The song used in this podcast is called Sure and it was made by Braak which is electronic and cinematic music made by Øyvind Strand Endal from Norway.Music from Uppbeat (free for Creators!): https://uppbeat.io/t/braak/sure License code: AVTXANAUYZXHSHB0

To get in touch email me at:  [email protected] effective immediately. Jason Bryden in Torontoinsta  @jasonbrydenofcanada